


let me keep what's mine

by roseandthorns28



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Amnesia, Implied/Referenced Violence, M/M, Modern Setting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-26
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-01 19:37:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17873543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roseandthorns28/pseuds/roseandthorns28
Summary: When Tony finally finds his boyfriend of three months after a week of radio silence, he’s expecting everything but the fact that James was a victim of a mugging gone wrong, causing him to lose his memory of the past five years. He has no memory of Tony at all, nothing other than what he might have seen in the tabloids and believes he’s still in love with his childhood friend (and ex-boyfriend Steve). Steve: who is actually an amazing, heart-stoppingly gorgeous guy whom Tony is finding it so, so hard to hate but stands at the risk of falling for instead.If it weren’t killing him every minute, Tony would think he’s caught up in the plot of a spanish telenovela.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> title taken from Larkin and Poe's "Mad as a Hatter". 
> 
> Many thanks to Hyperion for beta-ing this fic with diligence and patience!
> 
> Bill, Wini, you two have been amazingly supportive and I am so grateful for you two! Love you both! 
> 
> Mei, my wonderful artist, it was a pleasure to work with you! I still can't believe that that amazing piece of art is for my fic. You were a delight to work with. Thank you so much for not only the art but also your constant encouragement and editing on the first draft.  
> The art is embedded in the end of the chapter but otherwise the rebloggable link is [ here! ](http://letsallsleepoverwork.tumblr.com/post/182995371044/my-artwork-for-winterironshield-bang-with-my)
> 
> Don't forget to shower [ Mei ](http://letsallsleepoverwork.tumblr.com/) with all the love, you guys!

“What the hell?!”

The shout cuts through Tony’s exhausted mind, breaking his fitful nap. His eyelids feel heavy as lead, sandpaper-dry as he blinks them open. A six-hour cross country flight after a week of sleepless nights and subsequent crashing on a shitty futon had not been very conducive to restful sleep. And now, someone had to go and shout right in his ear.

As he sits up and blinks at the figure standing above him, his headache returns with a vengeance and he manages nothing more than a confused noise.

“The hell you doin’ in my room?” There’s a distant crash and the sound of the raspy barking of a dog, and awareness returns to Tony.

Standing above him with his right hand clutching a grey duffel bag tightly and a scowl on his handsome face is the one person Tony flew all the way back to New York for and then took a cab to Bed-Stuy of all places, knocking on a stranger’s door half manic with sleep deprivation and worry.  

“Wha – James? Oh my god– Oh, honey, I had no idea you– fuck, how are you?” Tony stumbles, clambering off the disappointing piece of  furniture with all the grace of an awkward baby deer.

“Who the fuck are you?” Asks his boyfriend of three months who’s been missing for more than a week now, looking ready to swing that duffel bag at Tony’s head.

Before he can answer, the sandy-haired man – Clint – bursts in followed by Sam.

“We heard yelling. Is everything – Oh shit.” Clint says as soon as he locks in on the scene. “What’re you doing here, Barnes? You’re not supposed to be here!” His voice has gotten a bit shrill in his distress and it causes a proportionate response in the one-eyed dog that looks a bit too much like its owner that Tony hadn’t even realised had entered the room. He winces at the sound and thankfully, Sam being the angel he is, leads the mutt away from the room with bribes of treats.

Bucky replies once the cacophony dies down replaced by the sounds of the gleeful chomping coming from the kitchen and seriously, do these places have to have paper thin walls?

“I discharged myself early. Couldn’t stay there another day. Real question is who the fuck is sleeping in my bed? I told you to keep your one night stands outta my room!”

“One night– what? What the hell?” Tony exclaims incredulously.

“Oh. Son of a bitch. Barton?! You didn’t tell Tony?” Sam asks as he walks back into the room.

“In my defence, I didn’t know Bucky was gonna go against all medical advice and discharge himself early like an idiot. Jesus. I thought I’d have more time to ease him into it!” Clint defends. “And it’s not like _he_ called ahead either. Just dropped in out of nowh–”

“Tell me _what_?” Tony cuts in at the same time as Bucky asks, “Tony? Who the hell is Tony?”

 There is a moment suspended in silence before Tony breaks it with a soft, “Me. I’m Tony. And I’m guessing you’ve got some kind of memory loss?”

Bucky lets out a breath, probably having realised that there must be a reason both his oldest friends know who the man he believes to be a stranger is and they’re not concerned about it, and some of the agitation leaves his voice and his frame when he answers, “Yeah. How’d you figure?”

Tony looks away, swallowing the lump in his throat. He doesn’t even notice Sam grabbing Clint by his bicep and dragging him out. “How far back?”

“What?”

“How much did you lose?”

“They tell me five years.”

“F-five years?” Tony asks, his stomach dropping to his toes. Five whole years. “Fuck. That’s – Guess I shouldn’t be surprised. I mean, you obviously don’t remember the past year, I – Five years, Jesus. I’m so sorry, James.”

Bucky shifts on his feet uncomfortably as Tony takes his time to properly look him over. He doesn’t look that much different, barring the fact that he’s got a large bandage on his head and he’s missing his prosthetic. It’s hard to digest that this man is a completely different person than the one Tony kissed goodbye just a few days ago before flying back to Malibu hopefully one last time.

“Uh, right. Hate to sound like a broken record but seriously, who are you? To me, I mean?”

_I’m Tony. Tony Stark. Genius, billionaire, philanthropist, CEO. Most importantly, your boyfriend.  We’ve been seeing each other. I designed your prosthetic. I’m the one you called when you couldn’t sleep and just listened to me ramble on as I worked. I’m the one who made you try foie gras for the first time and you cursed my name for days afterwards. I’m the one you’re sleeping with. I’m the schmuck who had been working on shifting his homebase to New York to be closer to you. I’m just some guy who’s crazy in love with you. I think you used to love me too._

“I’m no one. Just a friend. We’re – We met last year. I came as soon as I heard. I had no idea.” Tony replies instead of the scores of other things fighting to make their way out. Maybe it’s the answer or the watery quality of Tony’s voice, but Bucky seems to relax a little and lets the bag fall. He still seems wary but at least he’s not looking like he’s one step away from punching Tony for sleeping in his bed anymore.

“Friend?”

“Yeah, well, friend seems a bit… narrow. We’re uh- really close.” He scoffs under his breath, avoiding eye contact with Bucky as he slides his hands in his pockets to hide their shaking. “Best friends, if you wanna be juvenile about it.”

“Right. Uh. Sorry. For going off on ya like that earlier I -”

“No, no. It’s fine. You were justifiably confused. Clint should’ve warned you.”

“You too. He should’a warned you too. Guess he didn’t grow more brains in the past year.”

“Ha! Well, this is the first time I’m meeting him but I’m guessing absentmindedness isn’t uncommon for him.”

“Yeah, he’s a great guy, though. He’s puttin’ me up here. Apparently, I had an apartment but I lost it or something. He wasn’t clear.”

_You let it go because you were going to move in with me._

“Right. Yeah. I guess I’m just gonna –” Tony indicates back towards the living room with his thumb, “let you get settled back and all.” He bends down to grab his shoes and phone from where it was charging on the floor and trudges back outside.

He walks the ten steps across the tiny Brooklyn apartment to the kitchen where Sam and Clint stand, sharing a look, the former sliding a steaming mug of coffee towards Tony. Going by the lack of proper insulation in the walls, it’s probable they heard most of what happened.  

“Look man, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to spring that on you like that.” Clint says, scratching at the edge of the bandaid on his nose. Tony holds up a hand as he slurps down half of the coffee, uncaring of how it burns his throat and sets it down with a grimace. Shitty coffee, great. Just what he needed.

“It’s okay, I wasn’t exactly at my most coherent.”

“You should still grab some z’s. You barely slept an hour, man.”

“Nah, I’m good,” Tony replies, sipping the rest of it more sedately as he hops onto the bar stool, muting his phone against the flood of notifications that he’d missed during his nap.

“Yeah? Well, I was hoping your sleep deprivation was the reason you did that dumbass thing in there.” Sam says, turning to Tony with a no-nonsense look that was so reminiscent of Rhodey.

And, yep. They heard everything, alright.

“Look. He barely knows me from Adam. He just got himself home having discharged himself early. This isn’t what he needs right now.”

Sam raises an eyebrow but shrugs. “It’s your decision, man. If I were him, I’d want to know.”

“I’ll tell him if… when things settle. Plus, we have more important things to focus on. Like what the hell happened and how do we fix it.”

“Well, we don’t know ourselves cause there were no witnesses and he obviously doesn’t remember. All we know is he was found near some shady alley, bleeding out from his head, no phone, no wallet, fuckers even took his watch. The only thing he had of his dad’s. Someone called 911, got him to a hospital. The head wound wasn’t as bad but the prosthetic – uh, apparently the assholes tried to pull it out. Must’ve thought they could sell it for scrap or something. Anyway, they had to surgically remove the entire thing.”

Tony’s hands shake hard enough to slosh coffee onto the web of his thumb and he places the mug back down, rubbing a hand over his face. “Fuck. Fuck. How did this happen? Oh god. And he was all alone. How did – how did you get to know?”

“Uh, he regained consciousness pretty soon. Mine was the only number he remembered that wasn’t out of service.” Clint replies, manfully turning away to give Tony the privacy to process.

Tony nods to himself, absently sucking off the drops of coffee from his hand. First thing he’ll do as soon as he goes home, he’s gonna start a cyber witch hunt for the assholes that did this to his Bucky.

For now, though, he drains the last of the coffee and gets his emotions under control. There’s just so much going on right now, he can’t afford to lose his mind.

“So… what now? Memory-wise? Or even next steps wise? What’s the plan?”

Sam looks consideringly at Tony and he’s reminded of the fact that best friend resemblance aside, Sam is Bucky’s friend first and Tony’s casual acquaintance second.

“Well, that’s something that you’ll have to discuss with Bucky. As far as the medical opinion is concerned, these things aren’t set in stone. He could gain all his memory back, he could never actually gain it. Different people have different accounts and experiences. For all intents and purposes, there wasn’t any damage to his hippocampus so there’s hope.”

Tony nods along, biting the bullet and moving to the counter to pour himself out more coffee. Shitty coffee is still coffee.

He needs to get access to those medical files. Not that he is in any way shape or form an expert in biology but his work in developing the prosthetic line has made him more appreciative of the squishy sciences, not to mention given him loads of shiny new favours to cash in with leading people in the fields of neuroscience and cutting edge biomed. He can’t rely on what is probably third-hand information from an overworked doctor in a general hospital. Not when Tony knows people like Strange.  
The prosthetic part of it he can handle. This project is his baby and Bucky’s prosthetic more so than anyone else’s. He could design it in his sleep. As soon as he’s back in his labs, he needs to start the redesign, this time something that will not be so easily… whatever it was that happened to the prosthetic. Speaking of…

“Wait, where _is_ the prosthetic? You said they removed it.”

“Oh uh, I don’t know, man. Last I knew, I think it was with the hospital? Sorry, it’s just been a bit crazy over here. I don’t think anyone thought to ask.”

One more reason to bring the hospital up to task.

Before he and Sam can finish their conversation, Clint shouts towards the direction of the bedroom which has been suspiciously quiet for the past few minutes, “Get your ass out, Barnacle. I’m making binner! That’s breakfast for dinner!”

“Okay, I told you not to fucking call me that!” Bucky says as he shuffles out covering his chest with a tshirt clenched tightly in his hand. “Uh also- I might need help with my bandages.”

Although Tony is momentarily distracted by the flash of skin and muscled torso he’d once spent half an hour exploring with his tongue, his attention snags like cloth on the edge of a jagged piece of glass on the state of the left shoulder.  
The scars the run along and across Bucky’s pectoral and trapezius are livid red, dotted with what looks suspiciously like blood in places. They haven’t been this bad since the early days after Bucky’s accident.

Thankfully, the mooring of the prosthetic that covers his bicep and half of his shoulder has been left intact, just the prosthetic having been removed. This means that the sensors that respond to the brain gating implants are intact and hence Bucky is not in debilitating pain. 

Tony is simultaneously grateful for the careful work and pissed at not having been called or consulted. It’s more than professional pride, though. Stark Resilient bionic limbs are revolutionary, which means that there’s been nothing like it in the market ever and if they’d gone in half-cocked, they might even have ended up doing more harm than good.

But all of that stands secondary in the face of how Bucky is almost curled inwards, trying his best to cover his scars with his t-shirt, looking all kinds of uncomfortable and self-conscious about his scars which look so stark in contrast to how pale he looks and it hurts Tony’s heart to see him like that, to know that all those months, nay, years of Bucky learning to feel comfortable in himself have all been taken away from him. He feels a burning hot rage in his chest at the assholes who did this, who took this away from Bucky.

Before he can stop himself, Tony abandons his coffee to walks forward with a quiet, horrified, “Oh no, baby, what did they do to you?” escaping from his lips.

“What?” Bucky asks, a bit harshly, flinching when Tony’s hand comes up halfway between them.

Tony freezes, looking up into the scowling face of his former lover and back at his hand and racks his brain to come up with something that doesn't make him seem like the world’s biggest creep to a guy who’s just been discharged from the goddam hospital.

“Not you! Uh- I wasn’t talking to you. The prosthetic! I was talking to – I mean, you- you had one. I made you one. A prosthetic. It was a prototype. Top of the line, kind of like my baby, not in a weird way, you know how they say that project’s my baby and so on. Um, I was very attached to it.” Tony cringes at his word vomit and steps back, sliding his hands in the pocket of his crumpled suit pants.  
Wow, way to sound like a complete idiot, Stark. He risks a glance up at Bucky who’s looking a bit confused and a little bit amused. Thank fuck. At least he’s not cold clocking Tony for being a creep.

“Not as attached as I was, I bet.” Bucky finally says as he lets loose a tiny smile and god, despite the week old scruff – not that Tony minds that one bit – and tired eyes, it’s the most beautiful thing Tony’s seen all week.

He can’t help but chuckle at the small display of humour. “Clever,” He compliments as he nods towards the bandages Bucky’s been clutching along with the shirt.  “May I?”

“What? You wanna look at this eyesore, right before dinner or binner or whatever? Sure you wanna lose your appetite?” Bucky scoffs bitterly, turning his body slightly away.

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard and I once sat through a 45 minute presentation by Justin Hammer. I designed your prosthetic, I was there for every fitting. Trust me, your scars are not ugly, you idiot. Now shut up and sit down and let me bandage you up. I need to check on the shoulder anyway.”

Thankfully Bucky listens and shuts up and sits down with only a light, “Bossy”, muttered under his breath. If Tony closes his eyes and wishes really really hard, he might be able to fool himself into thinking that this is nothing but one of their regular maintenance checks.

But he can’t and it isn’t.

He doesn’t even know if he can reply back with a ‘You love it’ or if it would just make Bucky uncomfortable.

It doesn’t take him long to get it bandaged up, careful in his application of the salve, and ensuring they’re not too tight. Tony works in silence, his brain running a mile a minute and Bucky doesn’t seem inclined to facilitate the conversation much either beyond the regular ‘yes, it’s fine’ and ‘no, it doesn’t hurt’.

It’s only as Tony slides out the tiny penlight/screwdriver/swiss knife hybrid from his pocket and starts giving his shoulder panels a thorough once over that Bucky finally says something.  

“Um - someone ever tell you you look a helluva lot like Tony Stark?”

Tony pauses and looks up, chest constricting but manages a smile that hopefully looks less like a grimace and more in the ballpark of his press grins. “In the flesh.”

“No shit?!” Bucky asks as he reels back in surprise, eyes bugging out. He racks his gaze all over Tony’s face as if trying to detect if he’s lying.

“Yep. Wanna see my driver’s license?”

“No, no, I believe you. What the hell are you doing here? I mean how the hell did I- do I- how are we friends?”

“This, actually,” Tony says, letting his fingers brush over the chrome silver plates in a moment of indulgence. “You were one of the people who received our prototype bionic limbs. I personally oversaw the initial appointments for everyone but you and I… well, you were a snarky sonofabitch and I was bored from meetings so we started hanging out.”

_More like you were a snarky, flirty charmer who matched my wit and called me stupid pet names and laughed at my dumb jokes and how could I have resisted?_

“Wow. Shit. In that case, sorry for losing it.” Bucky says sheepishly, cutting through Tony’s reminiscence.

He shrugs in reply, closing up the panel and sliding his emergency tool kit back into his pocket. “Don’t worry about it. I can build another arm. What’s more important is that you’re fine.”

“More or less.”

Tony looks at him and he sees the weight of sadness in Bucky’s eyes and the worry etched in his brow and the unease in his own skin and he realises and it kills him that instead of gathering him up in his arms, Tony has to step away.

“...more or less.”

Brinner, which Tony is definitely can’t say out loud without snickering much to Clint’s smug satisfaction, is mostly a silent affair. Sam and Clint try their best to keep the conversation light and on topical things but after a while, it becomes a bit obvious how lost Bucky is at deciphering the references and he turns more withdrawn. Until Sam tries to get his opinion on something and he snaps in reply. Conversation is pretty much dead then.

Tony himself on any other day could hold the conversation for everyone on the table but today, he already feels like his presence is an imposition despite both Clint and Sam not taking no for an answer when he had suggested leaving. Bucky had remained noticeably quiet and it rankles him that he still doesn’t know if that means he wanted him to stay or leave. Or worse, if he didn’t care either way.

The only sounds echoing through the kitchen are the rumbly snores of Lucky and the clink of the mismatched cutlery as they eat. It’s not exactly uncomfortable but it’s not the most pleasant of silences either, the tension hanging over them a little bit too noticeably.

It’s broken only when Bucky pushes his plate away, only half eaten and fiddles with the napkin Clint had placed on the side in a bid to eat like “civilised people”.

“Uh – so, I’ve been meaning to ask,” Bucky says, essentially capturing the attention of the entire table. “Where’s Stevie? I mean, seems weird that I’m – that he ain’t here.”

Tony looks at him in confusion and out of the corner of his eye he sees Sam and Clint exchange ‘oh shit’ glances.

“Steve? Your… childhood friend?”

“Last I knew he was my boyfriend. Hoping he’d stuck around for my sorry ass. I was gonna ask the punk to marry me.”

A shard of hurt lances through Tony’s chest and sticks around, twisting deeper and deeper every second.

“I… didn’t know that.” Tony replies, swallowing the lump that has suddenly appeared in his throat.

“Um... Bucky actually-” Sam breaks in hesitantly.

”Oh? I didn’t tell you about Steve?”

“Not… much. Last I heard you two didn’t talk much.”

_Yes, go on. Tell me how much you loved Stevie because I’m a masochist of the highest order and I cannot resist poking at open wounds._

“Fuck, that’s a damn shame. I hope I didn’t fuck it up with him too bad. Steve- Stevie, he’s the love of my life...” Bucky looks up from his plate with such a boyish expression of joy, his eyes lighting up in a way that Tony hasn’t seen in the past year let alone in the few hours since Bucky’s come back home.

Something squeezes his chest in a vice-like grip, making it hard for him to breathe and he has to fake his smile as Bucky looks towards him.

“You’d like him, I think. I can never tell, actually. The punk is way too good at picking fights.” He replies fondly.

Clint and Sam decide to finally intervene and distract Bucky with a sub-par divergence but Tony’s mind keeps revolving around Steve, and _love of his life_ and _marry_ …

There is no way in hell Tony could ever compete, not when Bucky was in full possession of his senses, and definitely not now when the last thing he remembers is Steve fucking Rogers, epitome of all things perfect and right and amazing. He’d never really been the jealous type before but now it seems like just the sight of that sappy smile on Bucky’s face, the way his voice modulates into this soft pitch it never did with him, the way his eyes light up, all of that makes Tony want to tear something.

He pushes away his plate and makes half-baked excuses about work and important phone calls, using his phone as a talisman to escape onto the fire escape.

It takes him twenty minutes to catch his breath – and if he’s had to wipe away tears periodically then that’s between him and the judgemental pigeons of Bed-Stuy – which is pretty much the same amount of time it takes Happy to respond to his hastily sent message for him to get Tony the fuck out of here.  
Happy, sweet reliable Happy bursts through the alleyway brandishing his phone and taser like the world’s grumpiest knight in shining armour and it takes tony 1.5 minutes to steadily climb down the rickety fire escape and be ushered into the black nondescript sedan that’s usually his incognito car.

It takes him another 5.09 minutes to talk Happy down from finding someone to hurt in retaliation for Tony’s condition.

 

_**~x~** _

 

Bucky stares at the email, cursor blinking in the empty reply box tauntingly, for what has to be the hundredth time. It's a very simple few lines, a little stiff and polite but friendly. Usually, he prefers written communication, less pressure to respond, more clarity, fewer expectations but something about the words on the screen rankles at him.

Tony Stark is not someone that can be captured by the lifeless medium. He is an experience and this has none of the snark, the rapid fire trains of thought, the little digressions, the very expressive way his hands facilitate his words, the way his eyes seem to twinkle when he's amused.

Not that Bucky has been spending too much time thinking about Tony Stark's eyes or the rumpled adorable way he shot up in bed at the admittedly rude awakening, looking like a startled owl. Or when he'd been running his clever hands over Bucky's shoulder. Or the way he'd seemed to curl in on himself when Bucky had snapped at him.

He's not thinking about that at all but if anyone knows how to get the image of those brown eyes and shapely goatee and messed up hair out of his head then he wouldn't say no.

He can't make sense of anything, not even himself, and all the things he's heard about himself during the lost years sound like someone entirely different and Bucky cannot reconcile himself with it.

Exhibit A: how he became friends with Tony fucking Stark.

If he were even half the man he was before his accident… or even if he wasn't head over heels dreams of white picket fence and growing old together in love with Steve, he would've tried to get more than a little friendly with him. But now, Bucky can barely hold a conversation without having a panic attack like a freak or feeling the vicious curl of anger in his chest and lashing out.

Which is why he's conflicted about the email here found sitting in his inbox amidst the flood of spam. He'd been tempted to go through the earlier conversations with the same email address, there having been quite a few, but he'd chickened out at the last minute, afraid of what he'd find. Afraid that if he saw for himself the man he'd become, someone capable of having stable interpersonal relationships, someone who had his life in hand, then he'd have something too solid to come up short against.

Even now, every comparison, every expectation of him reacting a certain way makes his chest cave in with despair and anger.

In a fit of spite, he clicks the select all box and jabs the mouse at the delete all option, wanting to have some way to erase that man whose spectre hung over each and every one of his interactions. It’s only when the dialogue box flashed asking him if he was sure that he clicks cancel. No, helpful dialogue box, he isn't sure because he's not goddamn sure of anything now!

He realises that his right hand is gripping the desk so hard his knuckles have turned bloodless and he slowly eases his grip, doing the box breathing exercise Sam taught him.

God, he's such a loser, losing his shit over a goddamn email.

He pushes away from the desk and hunts down the crumpled pack of cigarettes that he'd found deep in one of the boxes that had been lying around full of his stuff from his previous apartment. He holds the pack between his teeth as he pushes open the window one handed, cursing under his breath at the way it gets stuck every two inches. Finally, he hops onto the ledge and fumbles with the lighter to light the smoke between his lips.  
The first drag burns as it fills his lungs and he breathes out, taking the time to just focus on the curl of smoke in the air and the taste of tobacco on his tongue.

He loses himself in the feeling, staring at nothing, and perhaps that's why he gets a flash memory of lying back on soft sheets and staring up at a dimly lit ceiling, of clever fingers snatching the cigarette from between his fingers and laughter - the post sex, sated kind.

God, he misses that. It takes a minute to realise that that must've been a memory.

Something from the lost years since Steve had been completely anti-smoking, not that Bucky had risked it what with his childhood history of asthma and Bucky usually hadn't stayed behind long enough to share post coital smokes with most of his hookups in the pre-Steve years that had all happened when he was a teenager.

He tries chasing the memory wanting something more, something concrete but it eludes him. He flicks the burnt out cigarette onto the street below and rubs a hand over his face.

Today, of all days…

Glancing back, the laptop is still open on the email on top of the desk, and he decides to man the fuck up and accepts Tony's offer of coming over to do a proper diagnostic check on his shoulder so he wouldn't have to haul ass all the way to Stark Tower.

The half an hour before Tony is supposed to arrive has Bucky in jitters.

Except for that first day, it’s been more or less him alone in the apartment, with Lucky for company, and Clint dropping in at odd times from his multiple jobs. He and Clint, being as close as they are, have an almost unsaid understanding that really fucking helps when it seems almost impossible to word sometimes. Clint knows when he’s on a knife’s edge and knows better than to poke and prod at Bucky as well meaning as it might be.  
People don’t get this from how he’s such a human disaster most of the time but Clint can be real perceptive when he needs to be.  
He didn’t get his Hawkeye codename just because of his skill at bar darts.

Clint is easy. He’s familiar. Despite the lost years, there’s this comfort that comes with just existing with the guy.

But now, now he’ll have to interact and socialise with someone else, someone new, someone he _doesn’t_ know, let alone have a familiar groove to fall into, not to mention this someone new is Tony fucking Stark himself and yeah, maybe Bucky’s frantic googling had revealed that the man had mellowed out in the past five years.  
Going from the brash, young, playboy genius weapons manufacturer to taking a turn to launching a project that changed the landscape of clean energy and hence, focusing more on consumer centric products like the long line of mobile phones, tablets, and laptops which frankly look futuristic in all the youtube videos he’s seen (thank fuck for that still being a thing), but it’s still _Tony fucking Stark_. A rich, genius CEO who apparently was also responsible for giving Bucky a prosthetic.

Not that he remembers any of it.

(Out of everything he thinks that might be the thing that stings the most. That he had months and months of being whole, of not being a broken down mess who can’t do half the things in life with his former ease. And the arm had looked pretty fucking badass too.)

Tony fucking Stark. God, what was his life? He’s not sure he wants to know yet at the same time he yearns for it.

Over the past week, he’s gotten tiny glimpses, hints of familiarity, and that’s something to take note of in that shiny new journal he’d been presented with by the hospital psychiatrist with an order of “noting everything of import”.

Anyway, Tony.  
Tony who’s going to be here in - he checks his watch - 15 minutes, shit. Tony who’d ducked out to “take a phone call” then disappeared into thin air, leaving behind his fancy jacket and taking with him any hope of answers. Not that Bucky had been at all receptive to his presence, so maybe he can’t exactly blame Tony for bailing.

Still, it smarts that as soon as he’d realised that Bucky wasn’t the same guy he’d been chilling with, he’d cut his losses and run.

He’s Tony Stark, of course, he’s got much better things to do with his time.

But he hasn’t exactly, has he? A voice reminds him. He emailed. Yeah, it was a bit detached and cold but it’s not like Bucky knows how to deal with himself so he really can’t dictate how other people deal with him.

Plus, it’s not like Bucky really cares.

He’s more mad that he’s mad at this. It seems so childish when he tries to break it down in his head. He barely knows the man. He can’t be missing him after barely knowing him for an hour out of which he barely had two conversations with him. It’s not like he’s nervous. Not like he’s looking forward to seeing him again, right?

God, he can’t even lie to himself anymore.

 

When Bucky opens the door to Tony he expects some awkward hellos and smalltalk but the man rushes in with the force of a whirlwind, already talking a mile a minute. He closes the door, leaning against it just for a minute to let himself adjust to the very presence of Tony Stark.

The man looks like an anomaly, dressed in jeans he’s sure cost more than the entire building, a blazer over a graphic tee, but one of those tasteful ones, not a Hot Topic reject like he’d last remembered graphic tees being. The afternoon sun hits him through the kitchen windows and his eyes honest-to-god twinkle as he turns his gaze to Bucky.

Shit, if there was any doubt that Bucky was building him up in his recollections they’re all dashed when he sees him; if anything he wasn’t building him up _enough_.

“ – anyway, I’m here now, so we should get started and…. You didn’t listen to a word I said, did you?”

“I got enough. Traffic bad, investors are a pain in the ass, your PA is a dragon-lady, and there was something about uh - a diabetic quantum computing system?”

Tony blinks at him with those doe eyes of his – and Jesus, Bucky really needs to get that under control because Tony Stark is no longer just a face on TV he can lust after, he’s actually a real person, standing in Clint’s shitty flat – and breaks into a smile.

_Sweet jesus, we just talked about this._

“That’s more than most people get, actually. Good job.”

Bucky shrugs with a sort of sheepish smile, avoiding his gaze. “I would’a gotten more if I had some context.” He shrugs, pushing himself off of the door and into his room.

“No, I’m just surprised you bothered to listen.”

Who wouldn’t? Bucky wants to ask but even he has the tact not to say it out loud.

“Didn’t I used to before?”

Well, not any better. Why does he always do this? Probably because of the same reason he could never leave a loose tooth alone. He’s got the most embarrassing baby pictures lying around with most of his young years spent as a toothless tyke.

“No, no, you did. Even though most of the time you just shut me up with your mo- uhm, humour.”

Bucky looks over his shoulder to find Tony with staring at the floor with a despondent look on his face and he feels a curl of anger at his past self for cutting Tony off like that. Guess that’s one thing that he can be better at.

“Want a drink? Water, juice, one of those shitty craft beers Clint loves?” He asks.

“You got coffee? If not, water’s fine.”

Bucky moves to start up the coffee pot, digging behind the dusty tins of canned vegetables to unearth his secret stash of the nice coffee he hides from Clint and his caffeine-guzzling ways.

“So uh, tell me about that diabetic computing thingy?” He prompts.

“Wha- oh, you mean the adiabatic quantum computing system? Adiabatic process is this thing in thermodynamics and the whole thing is just a subset of quantum annealing. Basically, we’re trying to make computers that run on quantum mechanics instead of the classical binary. Instead of two states, on and off, we have superposition of states, which lends to theoretically computation on a quantum level. Other companies are focusing on NISQ devices but we’re more on using annealing. It’s… not important.” He says, waving a hand.

Bucky picks out a few words from the entire explanation, his mind wanting to focus more on how animated Tony looks when he’s explaining things. Not that he would’ve understood even if he memories every word.

“That sounds really cool, not that I got most of that. I mean, I must look like a drooling, knuckle-draggin’ neanderthal to ya.” He jokes, busying himself with pouring out the coffee into two mugs.

Tony breathes in sharply behind him and Bucky looks back to see him blinking at him in shock. “Wha – why, why would you say that?”

Bucky frowns, turning completely and taking a step forward, in concern. “It was just a –”

“Well, in any case, that’s bullshit. You’re smart too. I’m just smart in different ways. Plus, they weren’t all that bad. Evidence shows they were excellent at t–”

“Tool making.” Bucky finishes with Tony then startles. He hadn’t meant to say that. He doesn’t know where that even came from. “Uh, I didn’t know I knew that,” He says as he huffs a laugh.

Tony is looking at him with eyes wide with something that looks a hell of a lot like hope. “I told you that. Last time you made the same joke.”

Bucky blinks, trying to find any hint of memory, of a clue but comes up blank.

“We were having a follow up about the arm, I might have gotten carried away talking about something, and you said something similar.”

If he tries he can almost imagine it, him and Tony sitting across a giant glass table in a conference room of sorts, maybe with the city as a backdrop. But it feels ingenuine, like it’s a scene out of a movie, and not anything real.

“I might have also said something about most people being dumber than me which in retrospect wasn’t the most sensitive thing.”

“Did you flirt with me? Then?” Bucky asks.

“You flirted first! I just said that you were too pretty to be a neanderthal! While you were talking about – ” He cuts himself off. “So, you remember?”

“Not like you’re thinking. Not even glimpses. But sometimes I’ll get like a hint of something. Some things are uh, like muscle memory? I dunno.”

“Have you - what did they say at the hospital?”

“Just to write down whatever I remember an’ that it should come back to me sometime. Told me not to stress about it.” He snorts bitterly before taking a long gulp of his coffee. “Like that’s real helpful.”

“I can –”

“No. Don’t. I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Tony nods, burying his face in his cup, his eyes losing their shine a bit. But because he apparently cannot stay in silence for more than a minute, he pipes up again, “This coffee actually isn’t half bad. Thought I would have to swallow without letting it hit my tongue because that earlier shit was nasty.”

Bucky shrugs, sipping at his coffee instead of gulping it down like Tony was. “I ordered this online and hid it from Clint. It ain’t gourmet but it’s not motor oil either.”

“Having drunk motor oil, I can attest that Clint’s coffee is worse.” Tony pauses, swirling his mug like it’s a glass of wine. “To be honest, I was kind of expecting an innuendo.”

Bucky feels irritation crawl up his spine. “Yeah, well. I ain’t–” _the man I was before_ “Clint.”

“Oh no, just that you were - are - kind of a flirt. With everyone.”

Bucky sighs, reaching for Tony’s empty mug only to realise his left stump has made an aborted movement which pulls at the scars and reminds him all the reasons why he’s not actually the guy Tony - or anyone - knew.  
“Don’t feel much like flirting now.” He says, dropping his half drunk coffee into the sink before going back to grab Tony’s now empty mug and putting it next to it. He’ll take care of it later.

He just wants to get this over with.

He hates the look he sees on Tony’s face, something sad and understanding and it scrapes at his bones because he can’t, _can’t_ , understand because he has everything and here Bucky is having lost everything including his sense of self.

He needs to shut this down as soon as he can.

“Shouldn’t we get to work? I’m sure you got other places to be.”

It’s almost like a mask falls over Tony and they relocate to the couch, the former pulling out toolkit and his phone. The next half hour is spent with Tony being utterly professional, asking Bucky if he’s okay, asking him for permission, asking him to move this way and that in the most politest of tones, only breaking the silence by muttering into his phone at some kind’a text-to-speech app Bucky guesses, leaving notes for some guy named Jay.

He denies that it stings a little that there’s not a lot of talk directed to Bucky himself. Not like it ain’t his own fault.

 

**_~x~_ **

 

Tony sits on his desk, the setting sunlight flooding in pink and gold through the floor to ceiling windows of his SI office in the Tower. He taps his pen at his lower lip as his eyes flick between the three adjacent screens.

One has a list of the best clinical neuropsychologists, TBI and memory specialists, and scores of articles and journal papers on retrograde amnesia following trauma. He's been going through them incessantly since he came back from seeing Bucky yesterday and now has more of an exposure to the squishy sciences than he'd like.

Another has hospital records (both ones he’d been given consent to access and the most recent ones from St. Mary’s), anything he could dig up on one Clint Barton, and Sam Wilson's SI background check file including contact numbers.

The monitor in the middle is running a subroutine as it sifts through the CCTV footage of all security and traffic cams from the night of Bucky's accident, covering a 5 mile radius from where he was found.

It hadn't taken long for him to hack into the NYPD precinct and obtain the incident report which give him a location. Unlike the police, he didn't have to wait for warrants or rely on sub-par analysis techniques. But not their fault, they didn't have JARVIS.  

“Sir, I believe these are the individuals in question.” his AI pipes up, displaying four snapshots that show the clearest view of their faces zoomed in and displayed in the foreground. “Would you like to run facial recognition to identify them from the national crime database?”

“Hold that thought, J,” He says flicking the pen onto his desk where it goes clattering off. “Call Rhodey-bear.”

Tony rarely stumbles upon moral dilemmas in his drive to do what he wants but when he does, he always turns to the sage advice of his oldest friend.

“This is Rhodes.”

“Okay, hypothetically, if there was someone you cared for very deeply, think almost L-word level of care- and maybe that person was in a bad situation and you had all the tools to help but they weren't exactly legal, which I mean legal channels aren't exactly foolproof especially since I have resources anyway- point being, if you could make it right for them, should you? Even if technically they have no idea who you are - on a personal level, like maybe they forgot whatever history you shared.”

“Tones? What the hell, man? Are you having a moral dilemma watching The L word?”

“What? No, I'm not a lesbian. Not that other people don't watch - how do you even know about The L word?”

“Not important. What's going on?”

“Uh, I might be on the verge of doing something ill advised?” Tony asks more than informs.

“Isn't Pepper your new moral compass now? I thought I lost the privilege after what happened in Macau.”

“Okay, a) that was totally the management's fault, they should have informed us about the rule against patrons performing and b) she's on a date. I can't disturb her. She'd skewer me with her Manolo Blahnik.”

“Totally valid concern. Fine, hit me.”

After Tony's long winded explanation, Rhodey sighs.  

“Look, if it were anyone else, I’d be telling you to pass his case to someone else in the Stark Resilient team then cut your losses. But since it’s you and you wouldn’t know healthy coping strategies if they bit you in the ass, I’ll just tell you this. Think of yourself, and think how much would you be okay with someone doing from the shadows. Without you knowing. Even if it was to help you. Then just do that. Don’t play god, Tones.”

“I mean, to be fair, some tech geek blogs already worship at my altar.”

“Don’t pull that arrogant shtick with me just ‘cause I told you something you didn’t wanna hear. Now, stop trying to fix everything for him. It’s not your place.”

“I can’t just bury my head in the sand and not do anything when I might be the _only_ person who could do something. If you were in my position, tell me you could let this go.”

Rhodey looks away causing Tony to press his victory, “Thought so.”

“Okay, fine, let me amend that. Don’t do anything _rash_. Tall order, I know but maybe the best you can do is forward the information to the relevant people. Give his friend someone’s card, leave an anonymous tip, push his case forward in the prosthetics project, whatever.”

“And then what? Just let him go?”

“Tony, he’s…. He’s already gone.”

“He’s not dead, Rhodes.” Tony bites out, his fist coming down hard onto the table.

“Not what I’m saying. But the guy you knew? The one you were dating? He’s gone. The one that’s left behind is a stranger.”

“Yeah, trust me, I can’t forget that for a second. Even when I’m with him it’s not… not _him._ But I can’t just… what if, what if he remembers? There’s a high probability of recovery, the numbers don’t lie. And even if he doesn’t, he’s not… not that different. I mean, we could - he could… he could like me again.”

“Tones. Are you sure you’re only doing this because you think it’s the right thing or is it some long-winded way to reinsert yourself into his life?”

“I…is that so bad? I mean it’s not like he broke up with me or anything. He’s just… lost his memories. Temporarily, from what all the research tells me. Is it so unreasonable to want for another chance? ”  

“No, man, it isn’t. These really are shit circumstances which is why I guess I don’t want you to break your heart over this twice over. But, if anyone can make someone like them out of sheer persistence it’s you but just know you don’t have to go at it alone, okay? That lone gunslinger act of yours isn’t attractive.”

Tony huffs, “Says the man who made me wear assless chaps for our dorm Halloween soiree.”

“Okay, one, I didn’t _make_ you, we both were going through an Eastwood phase and we both dressed up as cowboys. Two, how the hell was I supposed to know you’d not wear _anything_ under it. Wait, my mistake. Anything but a lacy red thong. I was scarred, Tony. Scarred for life.”

“They’re called assless chaps for a reason. Why shouldn’t I flaunt it if I got it? Don’t lie, you loved my perky ass too.”

“Your perky ass was underage, don’t be gross.”

“Aw, gumdrop, I’m a long ways from underage now. We can always break out the assless chaps next time you come home to me.”

“You know this is the reason people think we’re secretly married with two kids. Cause you say shit like that.”

“Have you been going on the internet again? What does future Mrs. Rhodes say about our secret love affair?”

“I thought _you_ were Mrs. Rhodes.”

“Hey, who says I would take your name. Maybe I’d make you take mine seeing as I have the multi-million dollar business.”

“I’m the one with the multiple medals. And military rank. So you should be taking mine.”

“Does Carol let you get away with that?”  
  
“Shit, I don’t have a death wish.”

“I bet you hundred bucks you end up taking _her_ name.”

“Stop that, we haven’t talked about that yet.”

“Aw, platypus, are you blushing? You want to, don’t you?”  

“Want to what?”

“Marry her. I told you in the beginning, she’s a keeper.”

“It- it’s not that easy, man.”

“What? You love her, she loves you, what’s the big deal?”

“I - I - fuck, okay, I’m thinking about it.”

“You are? Rhodey, you dog! When were you gonna tell me?”

“I don’t know, when I bought a ring? When I made up my mind?”

“Oh my gosh, look at you! I need to call Mama Rhodes! You’re finally manning up and putting a ring on it.”

“If you call my mom, I’m going to kill you. Can we get back to talking about _your_ love life, not mine?”

“Pitiful deflection. Zero on ten.”

“Seriously, though. Not a word, Tony. Please.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” He says, miming zipping his lips which is a little altered by the smile on his face. “But hey, don’t wait too long, okay?”

_You never know Rhodey bear, you never know when it might all get taken away from you._

Rhodey’s face softens and he gives Tony a small understanding smile, “Yeah, I won’t. Promise.”

“Well, nice as this was, I really gotta go.”

“Me too. Oh, and I love you, Tony. From the bottom of my heart.”

“But?”

“No buts. Just that.”

“Wow, you’re getting sappy in your old age. No death threats for waking you up at - what time is it there anyway?”

“Too damn late. But I’ll allow it. Only once. Next time you face an ethical question, read some Kant or something.”

“Yeah, yeah, you love my late night calls. I spice up your life.”

“Good _night_ , Tones.”

“Night, platypus.”

Tony ends the call with a smile on his face which slowly falls as he takes in all the information spread out before him once more. His gaze snags on Sam’s photo on the third screen and an idea blooms in his head.

_Hmmm… maybe it’s time to follow some of Rhodey’s sage wisdom after all._

 

Pepper finds Tony staring at the detached bionic arm displayed like some creepy shrine atop his work table, his holograms suspended in animation around him. He knows this doesn’t even make the cut for the top ten weirdest things she’s walked in on so he doesn’t bother explaining. Plus, he doesn’t have it in him to try and make paltry explanations right now. 

“Is that James’ arm?” 

“Hmm. Hospital finally came through. That Miss Romanoff of yours lit a fire under their asses. Watch out for her.” 

“I’m glad that as the CEO you’re taking note of deserving employees. And not even a single comment on her physical appearance? I’m impressed.”  

Tony shrugs listlessly. He knows he’s not playing the part that everyone expects him to – doesn’t even look it right now what with his greasy hair and bloodshot eyes. But the one good thing about having Pep is that she is the last person who would  _ want _ him to. 

“This is the only thing I have of him, you know.” 

“Tony, that’s not true. He’s not dead. He’s just lost his memory. Don’t give up now.” 

“I can’t – I haven’t  _ given up _ on him. I love him. It hurts to even breath knowing he’s out there. It’s like – fuck, it’s like there’s a giant hole in my chest.” 

“So why don’t you stop moping and do something about it? It’s high time you pull yourself up and start acting like the Tony who  _ fixes _ things. Not someone who sits around crying about them.” 

“I did! You know I did! I got him in touch with the doctor that handled that Don Blake case, orchestrated that whole veteran benefits thing – which, we really should’ve done earlier –, even gave an anonymous tip to someone in Fury’s team. I mean, you have no idea how hard it was! Working with Mr. Eyepatch of Doom and Gloom himself! I did all I could with the contacts I had. Honestly, if it weren’t for me and JARVIS, this entire shabang would have taken months and I did it in  _ a week. _ And that’s not me being narcissistic.” 

Pepper stands there looking unimpressed as DUM-E wheels over, attracted by the sound of Tony shouting. He holds out a yellow stress ball to Tony as he catches his breath. His anger deflates like an old helium balloon. 

“Thanks, bud,” He says as he pats DUM-E’s strut. “Sorry. I just – stress, heartbreak, you know how it is.” 

Pepper sighs and covers the distance between them, running her fingers through Tony’s hair. “You can’t imagine how amazed I am that you’re even letting how much you’re hurting show in front of me. I didn’t mean to say that you haven’t been doing enough. On the contrary, I think you went over and above your duty, spreading yourself thin, taking time and resources away from your work –” 

“It’s  _ my _ time,  _ my _ company,” Tony replies mutinously. 

“Shush, not blaming you. I’m just saying that  you’ve done all of that but not the most important thing. As someone who loves James, your only duty is to stick with him and give him your time and affection. Tell him the truth about the two of you.”

“Rhodey gave the opposite advice, you know.” 

“Well, Jim didn’t see you when you were in your honeymoon phase with James. You were the happiest I’ve ever seen you. And, you said that in cases such as his recover is possible. Maybe you should help speed up the process.”

“What if… what if he hates me?” 

“Then you show him the side of you that made him fall in love with you before. None of that Tony Stark nonsense; the real you. The one Jim and I are lucky enough to see.” 

Tony lifts his head but his snarky reply is stopped in its tracks by the press of Pepper’s lips on his forehead. 

“You better not have gotten lipstick on my face, Ms. Potts. People will talk.” 

“If you haven’t learnt how to get a little make-up off of you in all your trysts with those supermodels then there’s no helping you. Go talk to the boy. Let him decide for himself what he wants. Don’t take away his choice just because  _ you’re _ scared.”

Tony frowns in consideration, waving absently at Pepper as she walks out of his workshop, bringing forward the paper on recovery from retrograde trauma-induced amnesia.

 

_**~x~** _

 

Tony has a plan. Okay, maybe 12% of a plan. But he’s always been more of a fly by the seat of his pants kinda guy anyway so even a barebones one is more than what he usually has. 

In his newfound determination to become a somewhat steady fixture in James’ life, Tony realises that James would actually benefit from some company seeing as he spends most his time sequestered inside Clint’s apartment. He doesn’t have his job anymore and the only times he goes out of the four walls is when Sam drags him to a VA meeting or to go to therapy (or so he gathered from Clint).

It would do him good to have some distractions. Plus, Tony could kill two birds with one stone and involve James more in the process of development of his arm. Might benefit the project to have feedback in the process.    


_ Who am I kidding? I know why I’m doing all this. I’m a selfish bastard who can’t let go of a man who barely knows him anymore.  _

It’s more than a little self serving. Tony hopes that seeing him, reintroducing things that used to be familiar might jar something loose in James’ memory, might take away some of the wariness in his gaze and replace it with the boldness he fell in love with.

And if not that then maybe Tony will end up growing on him. Not that he could stay away even if he wanted to. 

 

The first time Tony drops by, it’s with a flimsy excuse and a bag brimful of takeout from their favourite place: Morello’s (incidentally the same place Bucky had once gotten him the world’s cheesiest baked mac and cheese from).

Despite having fixed a time to meet, James still looks surprised.

Well, he registers that later. First, he rakes his gaze over James, taking him in – the stubble that looks like it’s here to stay, the messily tied up hair, the bulky sweatshirt and gym shorts, the silver eyes widening in surprise…. 

_ Thank god for shades. Now stop being a creep. _

He thinks to himself that it’s a commendable show of restraint that he waited this long without dropping in regardless of what Rhodey or his common sense had told him. He used to feel antsy when he and James didn’t talk for one day and now, when he’s in such need, Tony can’t even send him a text because he didn’t give Tony his new number and Tony doesn’t want to scare him away with his “stalking”. Even this “meeting” was set up on email and he’s never hated that medium of communication more. 

Tony breezes past James, holding up the bag of food as a distraction between them, talking about “meeting running late” and having a craving for something “greasy, cheesy, and carb-loaded” and “damn shame” he forgot Morello’s to hide his nervousness. 

When he turns around from having deposited the bag on the table, he finds James looking at him with scrunched up eyebrows as if he’s trying to conduct a fourth order derivation from the curve of his tie or something. 

“Uh, James?” 

“Wh- sorry. Uh, nothing. I just forgot you smelt like that.” 

Tony does a panicked sniff-check on his shoulder – oh god, please don’t let him smell bad, not today  – but all he gets is the Hugo Boss he sprayed on this morning. “How do I smell?” 

James finally makes eye contact and shrugs a little. “Expensive.” Thankfully, there’s not a lot of censure in his tone, not that Tony can make out and it looks more like a joke than a barb. 

He hates that he can’t read him as easily anymore. 

“Ha, thanks. I uh- it’s my cologne I guess.” 

“Smells good. Bet it drives all the girls crazy,” James says and it’s a little awkward, as if he’s making conversation with a stranger. Which Tony is. He shouldn’t forget that. 

“Well, I think even men appreciate a good scent. Not that I do it for anyone. Pepper, my assistant, she’s banned me from entering the headquarters looking like and I quote, a grease monkey, which, I don’t blame her-” 

“You’re into men?” 

“Uh, yeah? I mean I never really hid it but after the whole Rainbow suit fiasco of two-thousa- oh, you don’t – that’s from after.” 

“No, no, go on, that sounded like juicy gossip,” James says with a slight smirk as he brings over two mismatched plates and forks balanced in his right hand. 

“Okay so, I maintain to this day that I was provoked into doing this….” And then Tony is off. 

He doesn’t realise where the time goes. After what feels like too damn soon he’s done all the diagnostics, gotten James’ signature on any and all forms he could pass as being necessary for the reinstallation, regaled James with a few of his stories and gotten out a few of his own from him (some of which he knew already). 

He takes his leave and walks back to his car feeling like he’s floating, like he’s got rocket boots and he’s flying, euphoric. The entire afternoon has been a resounding success. Not only did he get to see James and spend time with him after so long, but he also finagled his phone number out of him. 

Pretty much a perfect day. Except for the little snag where James had assumed that Tony had just meant to reattach the old arm and forget about him, not make him a new one. Which, not an unreasonable assumption to make. Most people would. But Tony’s not most people and he’d managed to spin a long explanation, complete with technical jargon for why they were not possible so at least they were on the same page now. 

More or less, seeing as he still insisted on paying for it. That was kind of when Tony almost lost it. It was only when his offended “Do you even know me?” had resulted in a sound, “No” that he realised he’d been arguing with him as he would have with the James who knew Tony, knew how much he loved him, what he could do for someone he loved. 

They’d finally agreed to work something out despite Tony claiming that he’d just donate it all to charity. James had almost managed to out-stubborn Tony, especially when he brought up liability clauses and what not. 

They’d soon worked their way out of that and ended on more pleasant terms. Tony suspects that James had been more than a little smug at having apparently gotten his way. Now, if only the veteran benefits worked out quickly enough for him to not have to dig into his savings. 

He has to admit, the way James had gone toe-to-toe with him had been more than a little hot. He’d always admired his competence. 

Maybe things haven’t changed that much. Maybe they can get back to what they were – or if not, then a new normal. 

And for the most part things remain… pleasant.

They don’t meet as often as Tony would like, or as often as they used to. Obviously, Tony’s busy and James - well, James doesn’t have any reason to meet Tony outside of what the latter concocts. They do text, sporadically, Tony drops by once or twice with different excuses until James rants at him about how he doesn't need a babysitter and that he doesn’t get why Tony keeps doing this. 

_ “Maybe once I could’ve believed that we were friends or whatever but I ain’t that guy anymore! I’m just a broken up, hollowed out version of that guy who doesn’t remember shit and has more issues than any sane person can handle!” _

And yeah, that one hurts. 

It’s just one more time when Tony’s had to shove down the sob hitching at the back of his throat, temper the hurt in his voice, paste on a smile and distract from how his hands shake because it’s the world’s worst torture sometimes to see James but not see the man he loves. 

It’s even worse because it seems like sometimes he wants nothing to do with the person he was in the five year gap that he’s missing. 

Sometimes, Tony fears that the person he knows now is remarkably different than the one he used to. It makes him fear that perhaps, he never really knew James. Or even if he did, it barely skimmed the surface.

The biggest indication of that comes when James grimaces in the middle of a conversation as Tony calls his name and cuts him off. 

_ “Why do you keep doing that?”  _

_ “Doing what?”  _

_ “Calling me James. Everyone calls me Bucky or Barnes. Sergeant Barnes if you’re being formal.”  _

_ “You’ve always – I mean you asked me to call you James.”  _

_ “Must not have been as close as you claim, then.”  _

_ “Or maybe you were embarrassed being a grown man who had a circus performer name.”  _

_ “Something wrong with being a circus performer?” _

Unbeknown to Tony, apparently, Clint had a sordid past as a busker and performer in a local Iowa circus before he’d gone into the service. 

That doesn’t come out until much later because from that point, the argument devolves into a ridiculous fight at the end of which neither know what they were even fighting about. That disaster of an evening ends with a slammed door and both men feeling oddly bereft. 

They do apologise – well, Tony tries to but James doesn’t let him. Only tells him how he hates hearing that name, that he never liked it and if Tony could please not call him that anymore. Tony, of course, agrees. 

It hurts though, how easily James – Bucky – just shed the name Tony knew him by. 

The second indication of that comes in the way Ja-  _ Bucky _ \- never leaves an opportunity to bring up Steve fucking Rogers. 

But Tony’s an old hat at denial and he just pushes it all down, locks it in a box, and throws away the key. Since then, he makes it clear that he’s there to spend time with  _ Bucky _ and nothing else.

Even though things are awkward sometimes, neither knowing how to talk to the other, even though Pepper sometimes looks at his bloodshot eyes with guilt and regret, even though he falls asleep clutching a pillow and feeling alone, so so alone, he doesn’t give up hope. 

It’s slow to come and very easy to miss but there are changes, there are references to memories, dreams with half-remembered events, recall of some big events, things that even Dr. Ramesh agrees is evidence that there  _ is _ recovery. Things that sustain the hope that maybe, maybe there is still some of Tony’s James in there. 

Even if he has to get to know  _ Bucky _ from scratch now. 

Which is easier said than done. 

 

Today is one of the slow days. J-  _ Bucky _ looks tired, exhausted from PT he’d said, and Tony himself isn’t in the best of moods but they’d agreed to visit the local classic car exhibition (which he’d had to dissuade himself from thinking of as a  _ date _ ) and he didn’t want to waste an opportunity. The exhibition was nowhere near as grand as had been advertised, but even that would have been fine if he hadn’t been flocked by the public for autographs and selfies. 

Somehow they’d escaped and made their way back. Since then, Bucky has been listless and quiet. Withdrawn. Tony has an inkling that it might have something to do with what happened. 

Tony is about to open his mouth and just cut to the chase, whatever the consequences, because seriously, this is the worst. Even Lucky isn’t making any sound as he naps beneath the coffee table. He doesn’t know why he just doesn’t leave, well he does, he’s a selfish greedy bastard and he is desperate to see just one hint of recognition or familiarity or even anything other than the uncomfortableness he thinks he sees.

Before he can embarrass himself further by trying to force Bucky into conversations he wants no part of the doorbell rings.

“I’ll get it!” Tony interjects already in the process of getting up.

“I’m not an invalid,” Bucky grumbles but lets Tony answer the door. He doesn’t know why he jumped up to answer the door at someone else’s house other than the sheer palpable force of awkwardness weighing in the air.

Tony opens the door to a blond 6 foot tall drink of water with a serious scowl on his face that does nothing to detract from the honestly beautiful features and piercing blue eyes.

“Who the hell are you?”

“Wow, I haven’t heard that line as much in my entire life as I have since I came to this place. It’s enough to give a guy a complex.”

The blond looks even more pissed off and there’s something about him that makes Tony want to needle him some more. Before he can reply, Bucky appears like a spectre behind Tony and utters an incredulous, “Stevie?”

The man – who is apparently Steve “Stevie” Rogers himself – shoulders past Tony, his broad frame dwarfing the doorway makes a beeline for Bucky whose arm is already coming up almost instinctively and they both collide with each other explosively, clutching desperately, too intimate to be a back-slapping friend hug, faces buried in each other’s necks and shoulders, unable to discern where one ends and the other begins.

Tony stands awkwardly there before the mutters of ‘..came as soon as I heard..’ ‘fuck, I was so scared Stevie’ ‘i’m so so sorry’ ‘why weren’t you there’ ‘I missed you’ reach his ears and he’s certain there’s some tears being shed at this moment.

It hurts.

Nope, that’s an understatement. It feels like someone has scooped out his insides with a rusty melon baller and left him raw and bleeding.

Not even bothering to try to catch their attention, Tony slips out the front door, shutting it behind him quietly and leaves Bucky and Steve to their joyful reunion.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra thanks to [ Aoife ](http://aoifelaufeyson.tumblr.com/) for the last minute beta-ing!

Steven Grant Rogers has faced many impossible situations on the battlefield, but pulling himself away from Bucky’s arms might just be harder than all of them combined. It’s been too damn long since he even saw the man outside of a phone or laptop screen, years since he held him in his arms, and despite all that time between them, the first hit of Bucky’s scent he gets when he buries his nose in the crook of his neck takes him all the way back to high school, to the years of close-knit friendship turning so easily into a domestic, steady love. 

No matter how long he’s been back on US soil, he only ever feels like he’s come home when he’s been in Bucky’s arms. 

Not that he’d gotten to have that ever since they went their separate ways. It had hurt to even look at the same roads and bylanes without Bucky by his side and so, he just hadn’t returned. Not for real. He’d elected to stay in army bases and safe houses, to give Bucky the clean break he’d deserved but had never been cruel enough to ask for from Steve.    


He’d only ever returned when the hospital had called him. The idiot had never even removed him as his emergency contact. Despite the circumstances, it had ignited a small flame of hope, something that had been fanned by Clint and Sam telling him that Bucky had been asking for him again and again, something supported by the multitude of missed calls and texts that had been sent to his civilian phone. 

Seeing as he hadn’t bothered changing his number in the years following their separation either, it was fairly easy to get a hold of him. Maybe it just goes to show how set in their ways they both were, even now holding out a tiny thread for the other to pull at. 

Although, he would have preferred it if the path back to Bucky hadn’t been necessitated by a goddamn head injury and traumatic memory loss. By the time he arrived on Clint’s doorstep, his head had been a storm of emotions; all of which had subsided when he’d first laid eyes on Bucky. 

Well, after he’d gotten over his initial shock of some unknown slick looking man opening the door. For a heart-stopping minute, he’d thought that Clint had moved and forgotten to tell them. Then, he’d realised that no, it was the same apartment; it was the man that was new. And he’d been reeling with dismay and unreasonable betrayal that maybe, maybe he was the one taking care of Bucky, taking Steve’s place. 

He’d hardly even heard what the man said to him, more concerned with  _ finding Bucky, making sure Bucky is okay, taking care of Bucky.  _

Speaking of, Steve finally pulls away from Bucky, but not going far, his hands on his shoulders, as he takes him in completely. There’s a healing gash on his forehead, his eyes are shiny with tears but lined with deep dark circles, his cheeks stubbled and sallow, but he’s alive, he’s here, he’s with Steve. 

“Hey, Buck.” 

It’s almost like a transformation occurs in the span of the two milliseconds and Bucky is wearing a very familiar pissed off expression. “‘Hey?’ That’s what you say after two weeks of no contact?! ‘Hey’? What the hell, Stevie?! They told me we were broken up! I said no way, no how but then I started getting these glimpses and fuck, I remember you saying some very dumb things and doin’ some real dumb things like getting your punk ass signed up for shadier-than-Black Ops! And you come here to me and all you gotta say is ‘Hey’?!” 

Steve chuckles wetly, “I missed ya, ya jerk.” 

“Shit, Stevie. I was so lost without you,” Bucky retorts, his voice breaking and god, please, if Bucky starts crying Steve doesn’t think he could hold back the waterworks. “Clint and Sam an’ even Tony, they’ve been real good to me but fuck, it felt like I couldn’t breathe sometimes cause I missed you so much.”

The last name triggers something in Steve’s memory – wide eyed brunet with a spiffy suit who opened the door – and he asks, “Wait, who’s Tony? That guy who was just here?” 

“Uh yeah, that’s Tony. As in Tony Stark. Didn’t ya recognise him?” 

“Tony Stark? The hell is he doing here with you?” 

“Being real friendly. Said we were tight earlier. He helped give me this crazy ass prosthetic. He’s just been kinda around.” 

Steve scoffs, “Seriously? I find that hard to believe.” 

“What, that someone like him would wanna be friends with someone like me?” 

“What the hell? That is not what I meant. Stop twisting my words. I just meant that guys like that, they always have some agenda. I don’t trust him.” 

“You don’t  _ know _ him. And, why are you focusing on Tony of all things? How is that the most important thing right now?” 

“Wow, not even five minutes back and you two are already fighting like cats and dogs,” Clint’s voice cuts in before Steve can reply. The man is standing in the doorway with a bright grin, looking between the two. It’s a testament to how caught up in each other they were that two hyperaware soldiers were unaware of his arrival.

“Clint!” Steve greets, moving to clasp him in a hug which the other man returns, slapping Steve’s back with a, “Good to see you, Cap.” 

“Good thing I turned the volume on my hearing aids down. It’s like nothing has changed,” Clint muses as they pull away.

“Seems like a lot has changed,” Steve says, unable to help the bite in his tone. Bucky shoots him a glare before turning on his heel, which Steve thinks is highly petulant. 

“I’m going to my room. Talk to me when you’re ready to make sense.” 

Clint intervenes, “Hey, lay off about Tony. He’s a good guy.” 

“What? Seriously? I wasn’t even - I mean he’s- “ 

“Listen, you just got back, this is no time to get into all this. Where’s all your stuff? I’m guessing you still don’t have that apartment you used to?” 

“Uh, no, I kinda have everything in my duffle downstairs. Didn’t know how welcome I’d be so I just left it in the rental.” 

“Well, I would’ve offered you my couch but that’s currently Lucky’s bed right now,” he says indicating the sandy dog napping on the couch that Steve had missed as well.  _ Strike two, Rogers. _ “Plus, you and Buckmeister in the same premises is gonna be a powder keg and I kinda like my things as they are. Sam’s couch is free though. I bet if you offered him some of your chocolate chip pancakes, he’d be hard pressed to say no.”

“Sounds like a fair deal. Let’s go get m- do I smell smoke?” 

“Shit. Your super sniffer is gonna get you in deep shit someday.” 

“Bucky’s smoking?” Steve asks as he walks towards the bedroom only to be caught by Clint’s hand on his bicep. 

“Hey man, let it be.” 

“But-” 

“You’ve been gone a long while, Steve, and even though he doesn’t remember everything, he’s not the same man he was. Just… don’t start a war the minute you come back. Come with me. I’ll buy you a hotdog.” 

“Can’t bribe me that easily.” 

“Maybe a froyo if you’re good,” Clint needles, pulling Steve towards the main door and Steve lets him.

“I will be bringing this up at a later date.” 

“Yeah, yeah, very scary, Cap. Let’s go,” Clint scoffs.

 

_**~x~** _

 

Tony doesn’t let Steve’s return deter him in his plans but he does try his best to work around his presence. It’s not like he was hanging about like a bum in Clint’s shitty apartment all the time anyway. 

The first time he drops in, Steve is there. He’s gotten a bag of salt and vinegar chips that James was always partial to (thankfully that didn’t change much), and Pacific Rim downloaded and ready in his USB stick. It’s only the fact that both of them missed that movie and Steve’s gracious insistence that he stay that prevents him from bolting the minute the door opens from the inside to Steve’s pecs. 

The irony of the situation doesn’t escape him.

The whole endeavour is awkward at best. Steve tries his best to make polite conversation but there’s some unspoken spectre hanging over the three of them. Tony’s jokes are subdued, Bucky shifts from having inside jokes with Steve to trading banter with Tony but the three of them don’t form a cohesive conversational unit. 

Bucky has to leave for his VA clinic volunteer shift right after so they part ways with uncertain smiles. The next two times he sneakily texts Clint to make sure the blond bombshell isn’t around as much as capitalises on the days when Bucky is all alone. 

Out of those two, he only manages to drag Bucky out the once but he counts it as double as they go to the local fair in town, in broad daylight. Even with one arm, Bucky kicks his ass at the shooting games. Watching him like that, with that sniper’s precision and focus, grinning wildly at having bested a carnival game, and then goading about it is an experience all on its own. 

It’s one of the few times that Tony has seen that absence of self-consciousness in him. It’s something to see. 

Things change as soon as they come back to real life, though. 

Tony can see his chance slipping from him, see how Bucky and Steve have these years of history that manifest themselves in the way they are forever oriented to each other. It’s kind of shocking how he’d spent six months knowing James and had never realised the depth of what they meant to each other. It hurts more than a little. 

The worst comes when Bucky ditches his check-up meeting (which might have been 96% of an excuse to see Bucky but it’s about the principle of the thing) to go help Steve pick out a mattress because “the current one hurts his back”.  

He then makes what might be one of the stupidest decisions of his life and ‘pulls a Tony’ as Carol ribs him about often and accidentally on purpose drops in at the mall they’re at. 

He “runs” into them at the coffee shop and immediately he can tell that something is not right. Instead of crashing the date of a happy couple, he finds a messy, red-eyed Steve and a withdrawn Bucky with dark circles, hunched shoulders and a stink of cigarette smoke that Steve isn’t even wrinkling his nose over. 

Steve is almost impassive as he leaves with a transparent excuse of checking out some books in the store opposite; not that Tony gives two shits. Instead, he orders a large vanilla bean latte and a blueberry muffin. 

He’s here to stay.  

Tony, in his insecurity and his drive to try and  _ fix _ whatever is wrong, forgets to temper his behaviour the way he normally would have. It takes him a while to realise that Bucky’s bad day is not being helped by him running his mouth and needling him for answers. Unfortunately, in the time that it takes him to do that – and he’s already trying more and more to compensate for long silences by being even more…  _ him _ – Bucky’s already reached the end of his tether. 

“Will you just – I need some space, Tony. You’re - it’s all just too much for me. Steve and I, we’re trying to work things out and god, you being here, it’s confusing me.” 

“I - oh.” 

_You are too much. Too much. Too. Much. He needs space. Fuck. Story of your life, Stark. You don’t know when to stop, do you?_

He leaves.

 

_**~x~** _

 

“Look, let's cut to the chase. I don't have all day. I know why you're here,” Tony says, holding out a hand to stop Sam’s next bullshit statement. He’s been waiting for him to come to the point ever since they sat down with their coffees. 

Sam crosses his arms, sitting back with an expectant look on his face. “Oh yeah, and what's that?” 

“You're here on behalf of the Brooklyn duo.”

“I'm not here to resolve your stupid white boy miscommunication drama.” 

“You sound like Rhodey.” Tony grumbles. 

“I'll take it as a compliment. Colonel Rhodes is a goddamn hero. Point being, no, just shut up and listen to someone else for a hot second, Stark. I'm not here to tell you to back off or anything stupid like that. I did come here for work but now that you brought it up, let's talk.” 

“What? Now you want me to speak?” 

“See this is why people think you're an ass.”

“I  _ am _ an ass. I'm narcissistic and selfish. You really think I care what anyone thinks of me? He wants to ride off into the sunset with his childhood buddy? That's fine. I don't care. I have much better things to do, much better people to do.” 

“Stop being a child. You may have Bucky fooled, probably cause he'd never believe you would give him the time of the day but that's his damage. You love him, man. It ain't that hard to see.” 

“I barely know him,” Tony protests but it's weak. 

“Well you loved the man he was before and you're pretty hung up on the guy he's now too.” 

“I can take a hint. You didn't have to travel all the way here just to tell me to back off. I'm going to leave Ja- Bucky alone. He made it pretty clear last time-” 

“Actually, he feels like shit for that. He just doesn't know how to talk to you.” 

“Yeah well, he can tell me himself. I think we're done here,” Tony says, making a move to get up. 

“Stark. Tony. Listen. I'm not here for them. Buck doesn't even know I'm meeting you. I'm here for you.” 

“What? Me? What does that mean? I'm fine,” Tony blurts, falling back onto the pleather booth.   

“No, you're not but that's besides the point. I came here to tell you to keep your distance but not cause I think you're interfering or imposing on them. I'm telling you to do that for yourself.” 

“I don't understand,” Tony says, squinting at Sam. He’s not being cute, he really doesn’t. Sam has no stake in this, even if he were worried about the association of his clinic with the Foundation, they both know that the real work is being done by the project heads and the staff at the Maria Stark Foundation. Not Tony. So, him being here, claiming to worry about Tony makes no sense… 

“It's hurting you, man. Every time you see him it's killing you inside. Don't even lie, it won't be convincing enough. All your bluster aside, you're a good guy, and you need some time away from Bucky. From Steve, from all of their shit. They don’t mean to make things hard but seeing them isn’t good for you. Tell me I'm wrong.” 

“Why do you even care?” 

“Look, I may not have known you for long but I’ve known you're a good man ever since you contacted us for help with the clinic, and hooked us up with SI and the Maria Stark Foundation. And, I'd like to think we're friends. Friends care about shit like this.” 

Tony can sense no signs of deceit from Sam, not that that’s a foolproof method of evaluation. They remain quite with Sam slurping his coffee and munching on the peanut butter cookies serenely. 

_ Do they hand out patience along with their degrees at the psychologists’ graduation? _

Tony, of course, loses the battle of calculated silence. “Sure, sure you know what? I was planning on leaving them alone anyway. I mean, they got their happily ever after. It's sweet. I don't have any place in between that.” 

Instead of commiserating with him, or telling him how ‘brave’ or ‘noble’ he is, Sam laughs. It’s a bitter sort of laugh, not mocking, but more like him laughing at the shit circumstances. “Seriously, man, you have no idea how fucked up things are. Nobody's having a fairy tale ending here. They have issues, both Steve and Bucky, individually and together. Neither is anywhere near well adjusted, they’re both war vets – one of whom is still in active duty doing underground shady operations. You can guess the status of their mental health. But, and that’s a big but, that's their battle and it ain't on you to fix it. Trust me you've gone above and beyond. Make a clean break before it hurts you more. Even Clint agrees.” 

“You gossip like old ladies about this?” Tony chooses to deflect rather than pick apart that statement. Not that he isn’t going to do that once he’s alone. 

“Naw man, Buck's living with us and Steve has no one here but the three of us.” 

“His family…?” 

“We're all he has. Bucky too. Guess that's why we're all so close.”

Tony chews on his bottom lip. “Right. Clean break.” 

“I can get how that'll hurt. But it'll get better in time. Trust me,” he reaches forward to squeeze Tony's forearm. “And just cause you're taking a break from Bucky doesn't mean you and I can't be friendly.” 

“Samuel Beauregard Wilson! Is that a come on?”

“Okay, that is  _ not _ my middle name, you ass. And you'd know if I was coming on to you,” Sam says grinning that adorable gap toothed smile.  _ And wouldn’t it have been easier if Tony could drudge up even a smidgen of feeling for him _ , he muses as his eyes fall to Sam's biceps in that polo shirt. 

“Are you even into men or was that a pity flirt?” Tony asks, amused. 

“Nah, I'm straight but I can throw you a bone and flex while you admire me from across the table,” he says, striking a bodybuilder pose and Tony can't help but laugh at that. 

“Jesus, screw all you army men. You make us mere mortals look so bad in comparison.” 

“Fuck you, man. I was a pararescuer.” 

Tony smirks at the scowl on Sam's face. “Your rivalry is ridiculous. Seriously. You’re all nothing but a bunch of frat boys only with guns and less clouds of Axe.” 

Sam snorts. “You won't get it. But I do meant it, about us being friends. We should grab a beer sometime, you, me and Clint, if you promise not to drink any of that ridiculous hippie craft beer.” 

Tony's smile softens. “Yeah, sure I'd like that. I gotta go though, I already overshot the time I was supposed to be back.” 

“Don't you own the damn company?”

“Well, that does not mean squat when faced with Pepper Potts. She's the one who manages my life. And that's not an exaggeration.”

Sam snorts, “Rich people.”

“Hey, this rich person can put his wallet back and leave you with the bill.” 

“I can pay for a damn coffee man. This ain't a date. Sorry to dash your hopes.”

“Oh, how will I live with the disappointment,” Tony says, straight face as he leaves behind two twenties tucked under the salt shaker. “I'll catch you later. We should arrange something. And I'll look into that benefits issue.” 

“Thanks man. You take care!”

 

_**~x~** _

 

Tony makes good on his promise and takes a step back. As it is, he’s swamped with work, not only are they on the tail end of a production but he’s also been strong-armed into attending this Army benefit and glad-handing peacocking generals and military men. If it were not for the favours he’d needed for getting the veteran benefits project underway, he would have sent a fruit basket and a big check. But now, he’s in for a night of smug assholes who would only be asking him when he’s making them a bigger gun to match their egos. 

Pepper pushes him to take a date for the ball, as if she wants to make up for pushing him into talking to Bucky, and he sends her a beautiful Max Mara black floor length number.

It’s a whirlwind of an event and he feels like his press smile is stuck on his face with an industrial adhesive and his hand feels clammy with the stink of self-entitlement and smarm. 

He doesn’t know until he’s collapsed onto a chair with a flute of champagne that the main event is actually an auction. 

_ God, as if it wasn’t bad enough…. _

He sleeps through most of the prizes on display, ranging from antiques, paintings by soldiers, letters from WWII, and lots of other things he tunes out, choosing to get some work done and sending JARVIS the specs to integrate them with the database. 

The last item is apparently not an item at all but actually a date with an ex-Army Captain. He’d feel for the poor sucker but whoever he is did sign up for this. He catches snippet of  _ recipient of Medal of Honour _ …  _ currently engaged in peacekeeping missions with a private agency _ – Tony snorts, code for spy –,  _ affectionately called Captain America _ …. _ Captain Steven Grant Rogers. _

Tony’s head snaps up and he catches sight of Steve: Bucky’s Steve; tall, blond, childhood friend, ex and current lover, Steve fucking Rogers. 

_ Spoke too soon. Fuck me. _

Steve looks like someone’s put a gun to his head, squinting in the bright lights, standing at almost parade rest. Tony feels the interest in the room turn up a couple of notches, all the WAGs and rich socialites in the crowd grab their paddles as if it were the only thing standing between them and total world annihilation. 

As soon as the bidding starts, paddles fly up around the room. As the price steadily increases, so does the tension in Steve’s posture. It isn’t obvious to look at him but Tony’s seen him in sweats and a tight t-shirt, sitting on the floor and playing ball with a gassy, one-eyed dog. 

When it looks like there might be a clear winner inching her way into a victory with French-manicured claws, Tony downs his glass of champagne and stands up. 

“A hundred thousand,” he calls out, causing everyone to turn to him in shock. As soon as they catch sight of him, a susurrus of whispers breaks out into the room as the poor auctioneer stammers his way into a “Sold to Tony Stark himself, ladies and gentlemen!”

Tony executes a lazy, sloppy salute and walks out of the room. 

He intends on leaving without claiming his “prize” because seriously, extended hours spent in the company of a man who might not be his biggest fan is one thing but doing so with his ex-boyfriend’s current lover? Even Tony isn't that masochistic.

So, he heads to the claims table, getting the paperwork squared away quickly – essentially, fobbing it off to Pepper –, and is about to make a hasty retreat when he hears his name being called and of course, “Captain America” himself is making his way to Tony because this day wasn’t crappy enough as it is.  

“Looks like you won me.” Steve says with a grin when he reaches Tony and Tony needs a damn minute to get his mind out of the gutter and his eyes away from the gorgeous way Steve fills out that damn dress uniform. Navy blue really is his colour.

He shakes his thoughts away, no need to creep Steve out by not only bidding on him but also leering at him once he’s won.

“Sorry, I know it’s weird but don’t worry despite my reputation I’m not trying to - I mean I only did this because you looked so damn uncomfortable on the stage, clenching your jaw hard enough to exert 100 pascals so I just thought -"

Steve is giving him a weird look, something that’s like a smile but it’s not annoyed or exasperated. He doesn’t know what to do with that. 

“It’s okay, Tony. Relax. I figured it was something like that. I’m just super pleased to see a familiar face here. Not to mention if it had to be someone, I’m glad it’s you.” 

“Uh… right, yeah, I’m much better than a gropey trophy wife.” 

Steve laughs, “So where are you taking me?” 

“Uh, home? Wait, that sounded wrong. Not mine, yours. And Bucky’s. Your home.” 

“We don’t live together, you know that right? And what’s this talk of home? I was promised a date. Thought I’d get to see what that Tony Stark experience was all about.” 

Tony blinks at Steve who’s standing there with a sheepish smile before he understands. “Oh, oh! Oh yeah. Sure thing, Steverino. You just had to say. I’ll send a car for James, I mean Bucky – and a change of clothes because let’s face it the man does not own a single suit – and you two and can have a great time, all expenses paid of course –” He talks as he walks towards the parking garage and it takes a hand on his shoulder to shut the word vomit down. 

“I’m not asking you to fund an expensive date for me ‘n Buck, Tony. That’d be all kinds of unfair. I’m just – I just kinda wanted to spend time with you but it’s okay if you don’t wanna. I know it’s a bit weird, you don’t know me from Adam and you probably got so many other things to do.” 

Tony gapes at Steve for a moment as he gets his train of thought back online.

“What? No, are you crazy? I’d love to hang out with you. And of course, I know you, Bucky only used to talk about you like every other day.” Tony says with an uncomfortable laugh. He feels like he might just be on an episode of Punk’d right now.

“And it’s not weird, at all. I mean any fri - boyfriend of James’ is a…. friend of mine, okay granted I didn’t think that one through but I’ll come up with a better analogy. Anyway! You have any preference, anywhere you wanna go?” He finally looks at Steve who’s stood there with this amused look on his face. “What? What is it?” 

“You always talk this much when you’re nervous?” 

For a moment, Tony’s instinct is to brush it off with a joke, to scoff at him asking him how he could think Tony Stark would get  _ nervous _ but there’s something about Steve that makes it easier for him to just shrug and reply more honestly, “Uh, yeah, curse of the genius. I seem to have no word to mouth filter.” 

He’s gonna blame those baby blues that feel like they look right into your soul. 

Surprisingly, it's not a complete FUBAR of a situation. Things are awkward yeah, but more like first date/interaction awkward and not oops I used to sleep with your ex who you're now dating again but no one knows because he lost his memory and we're forced to interact together. 

They go to a fancy place first - well not too fancy either because a) this is not a first date and b) Steve is not the kinds to be at ease in a 5 star dining experience. It's the usual fare of wine and too small portions with French names. Although, Steve surprises him by rattling off almost perfect French and sheepishly smiling when Tony shoots him an impressed look. 

It's a decent dinner, there's small talk, there's polite questions, mock fighting about baseball leagues, the usual. He can sense Steve is not full but is too polite to say anything so he drags him two lanes over to the world's best hole in the wall Mughlai diner with the best shammi kebabs and tastiest mint chutney. That's way more fun with Steve and Tony both abandoning their jackets (in his car) and rolling up their sleeves. Tony gets chutney on his tie and Steve has a piece of rumali roti dangling from his chin and they share laughs and jokes and banter. 

It is possibly the most fun he's had in a while on a non-date with 0% chance of the night ending any other way than alone. 

At multiple points during the evening, he forgets their circumstances too, of how complicated and messed up it all is. Maybe that's why, as they're walking along the sidewalk aimlessly, eating their soft serve cones, Tony mentions Bucky offhandedly. 

Till now, through an unspoken agreement they haven't really acknowledged the elephant in the room. Maybe that's why things went so smoothly. 

“I can't believe I was ever friends with someone who doesn't believe that Han shot first! I mean that is character assassination right there!” 

Steve gives him a funny look. “Friends, huh? Is that what you tell everyone?” 

For a second Tony is cut deep by the words. Is this it? The stay away from my boyfriend speech? Or has it come to a point where  _ Bucky _ is refusing to even associate with Tony…. 

Incongruently, Steve's face shows none of the malice or vindication that might have twisted another blond's features so he simply shoves his hands in his pockets to hide their trembling and asks, “What are you trying to say?” 

“You were more than that, Tony. Don’t downplay that just because he doesn’t remember anymore.” 

“Wait, what? That is not true- what a gross misunderstanding of facts… Did Clint tell you?” 

“No, I just - I see how you look at him. Used to see that look in the mirror a lot when Bucky was around, back when I was a five-foot nothing asthmatic boy.” 

Tony latches onto the digression like a koala, clinging on for dear life. 

“Wait, you’re telling me you weren’t always the Adonis you are today? I wanna know all about tiny Steve.” 

Steve lets him deflect with only a pointedly raised eyebrow. 

 

_**~x~** _

 

After that night, Tony comes to the realisation that he's been a fool to think he could have a place in Bucky's life. 

He deals with it by emptying a 25 year old bottle of Laphroaig down his throat. He’s never had the most healthy coping mechanisms anyway and this feels too much like losing James all over again. Let it not be said that Tony isn’t noble in love. Whatever they say about his selfishness in the papers, he can’t stand to come in between them.

It hurts to admit it but it’s obvious that Steve is a much better man than Tony could ever claim to be. He’s one of the best. And James deserves the best. 

Not to mention that Steve himself deserves to be happy. They both do and Tony’s nothing but unwanted deadweight trying to drag them down. 

This seems like a second chance for Bucky to get the love of his life back. To hear Bucky speak from his fragmented memories, the whole mess of circumstances was the only reason they would have broken up. 

What’s six months of knowing and three months of dating in comparison to that. 

Plus in his interactions with the new (old) Bucky,  he’d realised that there had been this undercurrent of sadness to him that he’d attributed simply to his accident and loss of arm but now he thinks that maybe that had only been part of the reasons. 

Maybe Bucky Barnes without Steve Rogers was only one half of the coin. 

He’s a little jealous to be honest. Other than Rhodey, and Pepper in the last two years of her employment, he’s never had anyone who stuck with him like that forever. He doesn’t believe he can ever find anything like that. That he can ever find a love to resemble theirs. 

So, he shuts himself off from the world and gets fucking shitfaced. 

Tony surfaces amongst strewn around equipment and half finished plans for a flying military base. 

What brings him out of his whirlpool of self pity and depression is a frantic DUM-E hosing him with the fire extinguisher when he drops the cigarette near some flammable chemicals and comes close to causing an explosion of the un-fun kind. 

It’s like a cold shower – almost literally, only with more foam. He can’t even be mad at the bot for that as JARVIS primly informs him that it has been 32 hours and 17 minutes since he last left the lab. 

He does take a cold shower then and deletes the evidence of his turn to the path of an evil genius, and sends the specifications for Bucky’s arm and installation to Yeung’s team who is spearheading the prosthetics project. 

 

Life is a bitch, though. And she keeps finding new ways to fuck Tony. 

His self imposed exile is under threat from the Brooklyn duo himself. He'd gone to so many lengths to sever every connection from that place and those people. And now, he's staring at a feed of Steve and Bucky standing in the elevators on their way to his workshop. 

He really really wants to just give J the command and drop these idiots back to the parking garage. He would never have agreed to this anyway but some intern had apparently recognised Bucky but not been caught up on office gossip so had no idea that the days of extended “lab visits” and impromptu”check up”s are far behind them. 

He did everything to take himself out of the equation, made sure that Yeung saw to it that Bucky's arm was installed perfectly and then had JARVIS block all means of communication from them. Except Sam because of the whole Maria Stark Foundation and vet benefits situation.

So, there really is no need for them to come see him. If they're coming up out of some sense of perceived obligation or gratitude, Tony might just scream. 

Still, he can't put the entire blame on them. He doesn't have enough willpower to resist seeing them - seeing James one last time, checking on the chromium arm in person. 

He directs them to the foyer in front of his lab and waits for the inevitable fallout. 

“What the hell, Stark?” Bucky exclaims as he walks in, complete with his shiny new appendage that Tony scans with his eyes quickly. 

_ Stark, huh? Starting strong _ . 

“Bucky…” Steve sighs, before trailing off and moving distractedly towards the glass walls that partitions the lab from where they stand – Tony with his back against the door and arms crossed in front of him, the two having just exited the elevator. 

They look good. Well, Bucky looks good. Steve quickly moves out of his line of sight and he has to turn his head to see him look into the workshop. He’s one smudgy handprint away from being a kid looking into an aquarium. 

_ Well, isn’t that an ego boost. _

“Damn, Tony. This is some really futuristic stuff!” 

“That’s nothing, you should see his classic collection, Stevie.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t remember organising any field trips at my workplace,” Tony quips, causing the two to straighten up a little. Bucky squares his shoulders, the frown coming back between his brows.

“Seriously, look, I know I was an ass to you, an’ I know I said some things I shouldn’t have but that doesn’t mean you completely cut me out! You didn’t even let me apologise to you! And then I get this dry as fuck email about my ar- okay, I gotta ask, is that a robot?” Bucky breaks off gaping over Tony’s shoulder. 

_ Damn, should’ve blacked out the glass… _

“Ugh, no, just, inconvenience. J, blinds.” Tony says, scowling at where DUM-E has picked up a rag and is doing his best imitation of a showgirl by waving it around. God, his bot is such an attention seeker. 

JARVIS thankfully turns the glass translucent causing a tiny dismayed noise from Bucky. Steve shifts back looking sheepish and more than a little dejected and Tony is of half a mind to throw open the door and lead them both inside on the nickel tour. 

He doesn’t though, barely stops himself but the sight of the sweatband around his wrist hiding the small burns he’d sustained from that accidental fire situation serve as a nice reminder of his conviction. 

Maybe he can offer a nice shiny distraction for some time but they all know who’s going home with whom today. 

“You guys done? Listen, if you’re here to make chit-chat then I’m sorry but you’ll have to take an appointment. I have a lot going on right now and –” 

“Tony,” Steve interjects, “Bucky’s real sorry about how he behaved with you that day. I know you’re mad but –” 

“Mad? I’m not mad, Captain Rogers-” Tony retorts, affecting a look of boredom on his face, ignoring the interjected “Steve, please,” as he continued, “if I were mad I wouldn’t give my go ahead for installing what is easily a million dollar, state of the art bionic arm on your boyfriend.” 

Out of his peripheral vision he sees Bucky flinch a little. He soldiers on - ha! - regardless. Better they hate him but get on with their lives than have him be there as a supplementary character and grow to resent him.

“Tony, please. I - thank you, first, for that. You didn’t hafta- I mean. I sure as hell don’t deserve this or all the things ya did for me. I just - I just wanted to thank ya. And say I’m sorry,” Bucky says, and oh god, he looks so sad. He looks like Tony just ran over his kitten then spat on it for good measure. 

His resolve almost breaks. 

“Look, first, you definitely  _ do _ deserve that prosthesis. We don’t just go handing them out like candy. Second, you have nothing to apologise for. I think some distance is good for both of us. I thought I could but I don’t think I can handle the intricacies of your particular situation and I felt it best to remove myself from the situation. No hard feelings?” He asks, spreading his hands a little before folding them behind him again. 

“You… if there ain’t any hard feelings then why do you sound like you’re making a business deal?” 

“Look, my feelings are my own and I have way too much on my plate right now. Also, there were extenuating circumstances, okay? I can’t promise I’ll keep in touch but if you ever need me, my door will be open.” 

Rather than reassuring him there’s a look of hurt that crosses Bucky’s face and he turns away. 

“Locks can be changed but that doesn’t mean they have to be.” 

Tony shoots Steve a confused look for that proclamation. “What does that even mean?”

“I just - Can… you and I still be friends?” Steve asks timidly, which sounds so wrong for a 6-foot tall, built looked a linebacker, army Captain. 

_ Goddamn, do they learn the puppy dog eyes from the womb? _

“We never were friends, Captain. If I started calling everyone I have dinner with once a friend, I'd run out of address books. Okay bye now! Don't let the door hit you on the way out.” 

He ducks inside the safety of his workshop and drops into the first chair he sees.

From the security feed still playing at the monitor, he can see Bucky step forward to say something but Steve places a hand on his shoulder and shakes his head. Tony closes his eyes because he can't see them walk away. 

_ Go, go, leave me alone. Like I've always been. Like I'll always be. _

By the time his tears hit the worktable, they're already gone. 

 

_**~x~** _

  
  


_**5 months later** _

 

“I remember it all now, you know.”  Bucky says, looking at Tony, cutting him off mid-sentence. The lights of the city halo around him as he stands leaning an elbow on the railing. It throws him for a loop – both the image and the out of context sentence.

It’s kind of surreal that they’re here now, talking together on the balcony wrapping around his penthouse, especially since Tony had taken such pains to burn that bridge and salt the ground for good measure.

He blames Clint for it. 

When the man had texted him asking for a drink, Tony’s immediate response had been a hell yes. That menace of a man had stolen his number off of Sam’s phone and then sent him a horde of (not so) shitty memes interspersed with articles on global economy, climate change, and public policy that were peripherally related to SI and the frontiers they were pushing. Yeah, association with Clint was weird like that. 

One time he’d shown up handcuffed to his ex/friend/it’s complicated significant other. Mostly, it was with Lucky and sometimes Sam.    
The way it started was with Clint insisting on making Tony buy him a drink for letting him mess around with the former’s hearing aids. It was only later that he realised that the bar owner owed Clint his life for some reason and would never accept payment from him or one of his friends. 

Tony, of course, had to retaliate. They’d somehow evolved into an inexplicable friendship which is why he doesn’t think much of Clint’s request to meet over at the Tower. 

Well, he doesn’t until the elevator opens to Clint followed by a sheepish looking Bucky. 

JARVIS, the traitor, had remained silent as well.

Which is what led to Bucky and Tony going from an awkward third-wheeled conversation to well, standing outside, watching the sunset over the skyline.

“What, like a spontaneous recovery? From everything I read, it seemed that trauma related retrograde amnesia… uh. I mean –” Tony prevaricates. 

“It’s okay, Tony. I know you were the one who sent that specialist. I kinda didn’t even have an idea but then Sam set me straight.”

“Didn’t have an idea about what?” 

“How much you did for me? Uh, he told me about the benefits. And, they told me those assholes who attacked me were arrested. That was you too, right?” 

“That - that wasn’t me, okay, maybe I might have helped things along for the veteran project but ultimately, I had very little say. Bureaucracy, you know how it is. As far as the guys in jail goes, that’s just the hard working force of the NYPD. I mean, I’m flattered you think I could do all that but I…. didn’t.” 

“Don’t pretend, doll. It’s fine,” Bucky shushes, smiling at him and Tony’s heart drops into his stomach. 

_ Oh god, no.  _

“Look, I don’t want you to be here out of some kind of perceived obligation-” 

“Don’t be an idiot. There’s no obligation, Tony. Not that I’m saying you weren’t important in my recovery. You did help me heal, no two ways about it.” 

“How could I? I wasn’t even there,” and yeah, maybe Tony’s more than a little annoyed at himself for abandoning Bucky while he was recovering while simultaneously not covering up his tracks better and giving him the space he needed.

“Maybe that’s what I needed,” Bucky says, “Time and space and faith that I would figure it out myself. Steve is great but sometimes it got a bit stifling with him. I was this close to punching him with my shiny metal arm multiple times.”

“Wait, really? I thought - I mean, seriously?” 

“Yeah, he might look all blue eyed apple pie goodness but he’s such a little shit,” Bucky chuckles, shaking his head. 

Tony clears his throat uncomfortably, “I’ll keep that in mind.” 

“You know, I ain’t lying about you helping me heal. Dr. Ramesh said that a lot of my recovery was because of the prosthesis. That I felt safer with it, more like myself and it was easier to make associations and get most of ‘em back.” 

“I… didn’t know it worked like that,” Tony lies. There’s no piece of literature he’d left unread. 

“Well, point is, even if I wanted to thank you for all this, which I might not be able to in a million lifetimes, shh, let me speak, point is, I’d just have sent you a damn thank you card if I wanted to. I’m here cause I wanted to see you, cause I miss you. I know things have been tough, but baby, I remember you now and I can’t believe I forgot you at all. You’re important to me.” 

Bucky reaches forward to place his hand on top of Tony’s, moving closer, his voice low and husky like it used to get when he was getting emotional. 

“You’re – you’re important to me too.” 

“Shit, I’m so glad to hear that. Thought I’d driven you off for good with how much of an asshole I was. I really hurt ya and I’m sorry.” 

“No, no, no, Bucky, please, stop right there. You’d just gone through a trauma, the likes of which I can’t even imagine– ” 

“Wouldn’t ever want you to.” 

Tony shoots Bucky a look and the latter mimes zipping his lips in response. “And, you had lost your memories and there I was some rich guy you didn’t know expecting things from you, making you uncomfortable… You had  _ – have _ – clear signs of PTSD. It’s not your fault.” 

“Thanks,” Bucky smiles slightly before it turns into a smirk, “I’m still sorry, though.” 

Tony can sense that there’s no use in arguing with him. “It’s okay, I forgive you.”

“Don’t mean I’m not mad you lied to me.” 

“Lied to you? About what?!” He reels back in surprise.

“You said we were friends. Just friends. You should’a told me. That wasn’t fair, me thinking you were just a friend, like we hadn’t been planning on moving in together,” Bucky admonishes.

Tony looks up at him and  _ fuck _ he’s missed him. He’s missed this playful, flirty Bucky who looked at Tony as if he  _ mattered _ . Who remembers that they had been in love and taking the next step in their life together. 

_ I missed you, Bellissimo. _

That’s not to say it’s the same Bucky. Even now, he can see hints of the dark circles lurking beneath his eyes indicating sleepless nights, the way his posture is more uncertain, the way the metal hand is mostly kept to his side and out of the way. 

“I’m sorry. I was kinda hoping I could insinuate myself into your life so that you would lo– like me again,” Tony says, a little choked up, playing it off as a joke.  

“I would’a come around eventually. I don’t think I could ever forget caring for you, even if I forgot how that looked like.” There’s a beat of silence where they both look into each other’s eyes, sucked into a bubble of their own world. “I’ve been meaning to ask this since ya opened the door looked all messed up and relaxed. Can I please kiss you?” Bucky finally whispers in the space between them.

Tony nods a bit bobblehead like in his eagerness and leans forward, rising up on his toes slightly, head tilted up just as Bucky moves down in perfect conjunction and they meet in the middle, Tony grabbing onto Bucky’s shoulders for balance as Bucky grabs him by the hips and pulls him in. 

Kissing Bucky after these past few months feels both strange and familiar. It’s a chaste kiss, a little exploratory and nothing like any of the previous kisses they’d shared. 

Even their first kiss ever had been more in the heat of the moment with Bucky having laid on one him – hot and open-mouthed – right as Tony had turned around to crow about his victory, having completely thrashed Bucky’s ass at the pool table of the no-name dive bar.

Tony gasps softly, giving Bucky enough of an opening to deepen the kiss and his hand tightens on Tony’s waist, and a stray thought hits Tony. _D_ _ oes he kiss Steve like that too? _

Ice washes over him and he pushes Bucky away, dread settling like a stone in his chest. 

Shit. 

“Steve!Wait, what about Steve? We can’t - can’t do this to- Jesus, Barnes! Stop nibbling at my ear,” he pants out.  

“So, it is true, that’s a sweet spot for you.” 

Tony pulls back slightly to finally catch a glimpse of Bucky’s face and he looks like a goddamn kid in a candy store which normally would be super endearing to Tony but there’s much more important things at stake here! 

“Did you even hear what I said?” 

“Yeah, I did, sorry. Got a lil’ carried away.” Bucky replies, rubbing at the back of his neck as he pulls away. 

“So… Steve?” 

At the name, Bucky gets a smile that’s so sweet, Tony feels his teeth hurt in sympathy. 

“Well, let’s just ask him, why don't we?” he says mischievously, taking out his phone and tapping a few times before placing it face up on the railing. It’s on speaker, ringing as the outgoing call goes out to Steve. The picture is a recent one, of Bucky’s new metal arm around Steve’s neck, as his other hand gives him a noogie. They’re both laughing.

Before Tony can cut his losses and run, because he really doesn’t want to get beaten up by Captain Perfect today, the line connects and Steve’s voice sounds over the phone, “Bucky?” 

“Hey, punk. Tony wants’ta know what you think of the fact that we just kissed.” 

There’s silence on the other end before a whoosh of air over the speaker. 

Oh god, why the hell did Bucky insist on this goddamn spectacle? Why the hell did he drag Tony into their little domestic dispute? And more importantly, if Bucky’s got  _ that _ waiting for him what the hell is he doing with Tony?! This is the worst. Bucky just threw away his love of a lifetime and for what? Some twilight delight? Jesus, he’s never gonna forgive himself- 

“Oh thank god.” Steve’s voice cuts in through his tirade. Wait, what?

“Wait, what?” 

“Oh, hi Tony! You have no idea how obnoxious Bucky is when he’s pining. Like a mix of a grumpy kitten and a sad puppy. It’s the worst.” 

“Okay, okay, enough. I don’t wanna run him off again, Stevie.” 

“Well, he’s gotta know by now that you’re a grade A dork so if  _ that _ didn’t put him off, this won’t.” Steve sounds upbeat and amused and genuinely happy. 

“Wait, you don’t mind?” 

“Why would I mind? I was hoping you’d find it in yourself to take his sorry ass back –”

“There’s nothing sorry about my ass!” 

“–as I was saying, this is great! Bucky should’ve -” 

As Steve talks the realisation slowly dawns on Tony and he turns to Bucky and punches him in his right arm. “You asshole! You set me up!” He accuses, loud enough to cause Steve to stutter to a stop mid-sentence. 

Bucky looks like a deer caught in the headlights, his left arm cradling his bicep as Steve breaks the silence with a loud groan. “Seriously? You didn’t tell him yet?” 

“Uh… connection’s breaking Steve! I’ll call you back.” 

The last thing they hear before Bucky cuts the call is Steve’s unamused, “That’s Stark Tech! The connection’s never -”

Bucky looks at Tony with a mischievous smile. “Oops.”

"Uh-huh, is that what you're going with?" 

"I... might have missed a few steps in the explanation."

Tony can’t help but laugh incredulously. “Oh god, this is crazy,” he says, shaking his head. “If someone told me this is how my day would end, I’d have laughed in their face.” 

There’s silence on Bucky’s end and when Tony swivels his head to look at him, he sees a chagrined expression on his face. “I uh, I kinda cornered you with this, didn’t I? I hope it- I mean I hope it wasn’t - isn’t unwelcome? I know I ain’t got no right to stand here before you and ask for something so big after not even saying a how do you do to you face to face for more than four months but I just – shit.” Bucky scrubs at his mouth. “Feel free to throw me out anytime.” 

Tony tsks and steps closer, taking Bucky’s wrist in his hand and tugging it down. “Good to know I’m not the only one with a habit of babbling when I’m nervous. It’s okay. I’m not – It’s not unwelcome. I just…. I just didn’t expect to ever see you again. Especially not proposing what sounds to me like a poly relationship?” 

Bucky nods, “Yeah that. I want that. You and me. And…. Me and Stevie. If that – if that ain’t asking too much. I know - I know it’s not the norm and not everyone would want their boyfriend seeing someone else but it ain’t, it won’t be an open thing. I mean, I couldn’t- I just- I need you both. And you don’t have to commit to anything, we can just give it a try. See if that’s something you would want?” 

Tony lets Bucky run out of steam, enjoying for the first time that he’s not the one with the word vomit. 

“It’s not asking for too much. I- I’d rather I share you with Steve than not have you at all.” Tony hums, intertwining their fingers together, “I guess it’s safe to say that even with my multitude of sexual experiences, I’ve never really been in a proper poly relationship so I’m kind of in the dark here but, if that’s what you want, then yes. Yeah, I’m down to give it a try.” 

They kiss again to seal the deal under the stars, clutching onto each other desperately, lovingly, their faces light up from the blue glow of Bucky’s cellphone which is lit up with his background of him and Steve. 

 

_ Things are going to be alright…   _

**Author's Note:**

> I have to post this in parts because RL really did a 180 and fucked me up real good... 
> 
> Come join us over at the 16+ [ Stuckony Discord ](https://discord.gg/jtXcc3n) for all things Steve Tony Bucky!


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